Tomorrow.

Fuck Monday. Fuck another weekend spent wondering if I can live through the day and knowing it's a potentially legitimate concern. Fuck getting into the car and hoping I don't pass out or stroke at the wheel and get into an accident. Fuck trying to decide whether or not I should take out the trash or do my laundry based on how confident I am that I can make it up and down the stairs. Fuck being clinically emaciated and STILL unhappy. I'm not happy! I am decidedly skeletal and decidedly NOT happy. Who would have thought that was possible? Not me, up until this past week. Not for the past 20 years. The only time my BMI has been lower than this was when I was literally about to die. That was seven years ago. My body was shutting down. My brain was shutting down. I had no idea how sick I was. Now, there's a part of me that does know how sick I am, and another, bigger part of me that at least kind of comprehends it, and it's those two parts that say ENOUGH. I start refeeding tomorrow.

Today was a horrible day, functionality-wise. Walking to class I honestly felt like my legs were going to give out from under me. My lips, fingertips are almost always purple. Words cannot describe how much energy I am depleted of doing the most mundane tasks. So it ends tomorrow.

Well, it doesn't end. I don't magically get better and the pain and exhaustion don't go away overnight. In all likelihood, they will worsen. But I'll be moving in the right direction, for the first time in a long time.

And yes, I'm scared. I'm terrified. I'm going to miss my anorexia, my best friend and my lover of more than a decade, like crazy. It's going to try to win me back... by guilting me, by bribing me, by screaming at me, but always by LYING to me. Part of my fear is that I'll give into these lies. That three days in, maybe a week in, maybe even longer, I'll say, "this is too hard" and run right back. It's a fear of mine, but it's not a fact. It does not have to become my reality. I can tell myself, disease is part of my past. It is not part of my now. It will not be part of my future.

I'm excited for life and apprehensive at the same time. But I guess that's normal.